


I Was Never Enough

by Ooonicorn (orphan_account)



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Depression, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:07:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Ooonicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin Crieff has felt like a failure his whole life, being put down by his family and life in general. One day, after a heated fight with Simon, it all becomes too much and he decideds that enoughs enough; He must end it now. Leaving himself a few days left to live, will someone see the change in Martin and help him before its too late. AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This was not the man he wanted to be. This was not what he had ever dreamed would come of his pitiful existence. Staring up at the man in the mirror, Martin studied his appearance intently. Ginger curls sprung out in different directions all over his head; unable to be tamed, eyes red rimmed and bloodshot, his pale skin clammy and his entire body shaking violently. He looked how he felt; hideous. No wonder no one would ever love him.

A shaky hand reached to turn on the tap, water protruding from the rusty tap in odd spurts. He shakily brought his hands and gathered some water, splashing it over his face; drenching his baggy top.  
With one last glance at the failure in the mirror, he let out an animalistic cry and fell to the floor, fists clenched in his hair; his entire body wracking with sobs. Why was he such a failure? All his life his had tried to prove everybody wrong, that he could be a pilot; a captain, even! But he was never good enough for anybody. His own father had died thinking that his youngest son was a looser. Already 6 failed attempts at his CPL test, his father had told him he would be better to give up this silly nonsense and become an electrician. Martin had almost given in, then. He had decided that after his last try, that would be it and Martin would do as his dad advised, give up his dream and have the same pedestrian job day-in-day-out. But he'd passed, though his father never found out that he'd passed his last attempt as he died a few days prior to finding out the results. Martin never even got the chance to prove him wrong, which is why he'd been left with an old rundown van; just assuming his son was destined to fail. His family had never held much stock in Martin. His mother and father had always favoured Simon and Caitlin over him. A boy and a girl; the perfect set of children, Martin had been a mistake. His older siblings achieving with high grades while he just scrapped by average, growing up to have successful jobs and perfect families, while he lived in an attic above a bunch of students, surviving off rice and unflavoured pasta. Martin had never thought very highly of himself, in fact he never thought anything good about himself at all, but at this particular moment; he had never been so low.

He had just received a call from his brother Simon. Not for a friendly chat (Though when Simon had ever showed any kindness to Martin, he couldn't even remember), but to boast about his new accomplishment, one of the very many in his life. Simon had been promoted to head of the company at the firm he worked for. So now he was getting paid triple what he was already earning, which what he got in a week is what Martin would earn in a month's worth of van jobs, but was paid to do less work and go on holidays to promote his company. He had called to say that there was to be a party at the family home to celebrate, but that he wasn't invited because he would embarrass him in front of his work mates. Martin had argued that he would do nothing of the sort! That he too was a professional, that he was a Captain for an airline and should be treated with respect just like he and Caitlin demanded. Simon had all but laughed down the phone, exclaiming that real professionals get paid to work and did not drive around lugging people's belongings from one side of town to the other. Martin had become angry at his brothers declaration but kept his cool. It wasn't until his brother said that MJN air was hardly an airline at all, that he should be ashamed to even say he worked there. That was when Martin lost it. He could handle Simon picking on the fact that Martin didn't earn nearly a quarter as much as what he did, that he was forced to endure hours of hard labour to try and pay his rent, let alone buy food. But he would not stand for someone, especially his own brother, bad mouthing the one thing that had made his whole miserable life worth living. He had shouted down the phone at his brother, asking how he had the audacity to even say such things. He had worked himself into a rage, letting out years of suppressed anger and jealously at one of the people who had always made him feel small. He had screamed that he never wanted to hear or speak to any of them again and wished them a happy fucking life before ending the call abruptly and throwing his phone away angrily.

This is why Martin found himself sitting on the floor in his horrid bathroom with a bottle of sleeping pills and vodka, contemplating whether he should just end it right then and there. He sat leaning against the tiled wall, bony knees brought up to his chest, hands clenched around fistfuls of hair; trying to drown out the noise in his head, tears streaming down his face as his throat constricted the loud sobs from escaping into the open.

Could he really do this? It's not as if anyone would care... His brother had just proven that. No one had any respect for him, even as a Captain he was still undermined. He had no one that loved him, not that he really had a chance; he was rubbish at relationships, always overanalyzing them and then his partner would leave him and to be frank, who would want a 32-year-old boyfriend who lived in an attic and had a very large obsession with planes?

Carolyn could always hire someone else, someone who had more experience and didn't take seven goes to get their license; admittedly she would be a bit annoyed that she would actually have to paysomeone, but that was hardly his problem. He would be gone. Douglas might be a bit pissed off that he would have to play harder to win the word games and bets with the new pilot, but he would get to be captain, again, so why should he complain. The only person who might genuinely miss him would be Arthur...but he would get over it...he hoped.

Thinking about the crew of MJN Air, Martin decided he could not do it tonight; at least, not without saying good-bye first. He planned to do it Friday night after he got back from his flight to Italy. That way he would be able to have one last taste of freedom and say goodbye to the people he had grown to care about. As much as he loved flying, it just wasn't enough anymore. He needed someone in his life that would appreciate him; all his little quirks, his bad luck, his passions. He wanted to have a family who valued him as a person and not as mistake that shamed them since day one.

Deciding on a plan, he wiped away the trails of moisture that his crying had left and stood to wash his face again. He quickly picked up the bottle of sleeping pills and vodka and went to hide them under his bed. It would not do well to have someone find them prematurely and guess what Martin was planning to do; not that he had many visitors. Over the past two years of working at the tiny air-dot, Arthur had come over a handful of times, Carolyn twice (both times to pick up a slightly drunk Arthur) and Douglas just the once.

A cold sense came over him, remembering the times he had endured with his crew, which made him a little sad at what he was going to do, what he might put them through. His life had not been all bad, in fact it had improved greatly over the last two years; it was almost as if he had a family within the small charter company, if a slightly dysfunctional one. But even with all the good times, he just couldn't do it anymore, he just couldn't. He had made up his mind and was not going to change it. He was only glad that his father was dead and wasn't going to see his youngest son finally prove him right.

With that last resentful thought of his father, he collapsed on his bed, mentally and physically exhausted by the emotional distress caused that evening. His body was screaming from the aches and pains caused from huddling up in the corner of the hard floor in his bathroom. With a final sign, sinking into his mattress further, Martin fell into a troubled sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Martin awoke to the sound of his phone ringing, an annoying tune that usually grated on his nerves now a relief that brought him from his tormented dreams. He pulled back the covers and hurriedly looked for his phone. After a few antagonizing moments of pure annoyance, he finally located the phone and grabbed it just before the person could hang up. Without even looking at the ID he answered the phone.

"Martin Crieff."

"Martin! It's Carolyn. Where are you?"

"Wh- what? Carolyn, what do you mean?"

"What I mean, Martin, is that it is now 10:45am and I remember specifically telling you and Douglas to be here at 8. Now I expect this kind of behaviour from the Almighty Sky God and all his glory, but not from you. Now I want you in this Port-a-Cabin in 15 minutes or by God you will regret It." and with that last quick remark, she hung up the phone, leaving Martin flustered. He glanced at his small clock beside his bed and saw that it was indeed past 10... In fact, he had nearly slept half of the day away. 'God, I'm so bloody useless,' he thought miserably,' I can't even wake up on time!' Without even thinking about how his last day could get any worse, he started to scramble around the tiny attic, trying to get to the airport in the allotted time.

He arrived just before 11 am, puffing as he ran into the small Port-a-cabin. Douglas was sitting at his desk reading a magazine and Arthur was in the make shift kitchen preparing coffee. Carolyn was nowhere to be seen.

"Ahh...Nice of you to finally join us, Sir. How lovely of you to grace us with your presence, as we, your humble servants, feel very lost without the knowledge of the supreme commander to guide us." Douglas sat reclined in his chair, feet up on the desk with a cup of tea in one hand looking up at Martin with an odd expression. Although his witty comment was nothing out of the ordinary, his expression was; almost pitiful. 'Oh, God! The last thing I need is pity from the likes of Douglas.

"Yes, thank you Douglas. Where is Carolyn?" Martin huffed and folded his arms, refusing to look directly into the older man's eyes.

"I don't know. Have you checked her office?" Douglas replied smugly. Martin mentally slapped himself for being so idiotic, 'Of course she would be in there!' He hurriedly made his way to the other side of the cabin and into the only closed off office in the facility. Carolyn sat there, looking like death warmed up and a glare that could peel paint; before he could even close the door the older woman exploded.

"Martin! What exactly are you playing at? I specifically told you to be here at 8:00 am! Not that you every really listen to me, but I expected you to at least be on time. You are never late! But today, of all days, you decide to be several hours late! I don't know what has gotten into you, Martin, but I want it sorted out; immediately.

"C-Carolyn, I'm sorry. I-" Martin began to stutter an excuse, but was stopped by Carolyn's voice thundering over his.

"Sorry doesn't cut it! We have a very important trip today, as you very well know, that could quite possibly save MJN from sinking any lower. This contract could the thing that brings us out of the red and into the black. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Carolyn. I do, I just-"

"No! "Just", nothing Martin! Now the next time you do this to me, I swear to God, not only will I come at you with knives, I will also relieve you of your job, is that clear?"

Martin stood stock still. He had never received this kind of treatment from Carolyn at all, so was in a bit of a shock. Yes, she had gotten angry at him before; for diverting a trip because of little malfunction, getting caught up in airport security more than a few times, and for 'accidently' freezing a client's cat, but never had he voice been so cold and her eyes that harsh. After a passing moment of silence, Carolyn became aggravated at him further for not answering.

"Is that clear, Martin?"

"Y-yes, perfectly"

"Good. Now get out of my sight and actually do something to contribute to this company."

And with a nod of dismissal she lowered her head to the paperwork on her desk. Shakily, Martin turned and staggered out of the office, sight going blurred as tears pinched at his eyes, begging for release. Martin sat down at his desk in silence, ignoring the constant noise just outside of his mind and not feeling when he finally caved and tears rolled down his cheeks.

There was a strong odour protruding the air in the small cabin that smelt faintly of salami and fish food. Arthur added the finishing touches to his 'creation' and looked up with a big smile on his face, but catching sight of his beloved Skipper, the smile slipped immediately from his face. Deciding the best thing for Martin right now was a shot of caffeine he bounded forward offering the cup to Martin.

"Good morning Skip!" Martin was shaken from his thoughts and peered up at Arthur in mild confusion.

"Is it?" He questioned.

"Well of course, Skip! It's always a good morning...except for this one time when I was sick, but it was fine because mum brought me ice-cream in bed; it was Brilliant!" Martin sighed and leaned over his desk, rubbing his hands over his face; he didn't think he could really handle a chirpy Arthur right now.

"Listen, Arthur-"He started, but was cut off when Arthur asked one of the simplest questions in history.

"Are you okay?" Martin's eyes widened in shock, no one had ever actually asked him this before; and although the question was simple, it was one that Martin could not answer honestly as, he did not know. Arthur continued to look at him with a questioning gaze, waiting for an answer while Martin did his best to put on a fake mask for Arthur to see.

"I'm fine."

It might have worked if Arthur had been an idiot, but he wasn't, not really. Not only did he have his skills from the 'Reading people' course he did in Ipswich, but he also had common sense. Martin had put in place his fake mask to hide his feelings from everyone. But even the finest of bone china had its cracks, and Martin was too emotionally unstable to try and fool anyone; Arthur saw through it straight away.

"Yeah...but not really, you always look sad, Skip; especially today, and I know it's not just because Mum yelled at you, because Mum yells at me a lot and I am never that sad." Martin huffed in annoyance and looked pointedly at Arthur, not missing the slight movement out of the corner of his left eye.

"Arthur, there is nothing wrong with me; I am fine. I'm absolutely fine. I don't even know why you are bringing this up because there is nothing wrong with me, do you understand?" His breathing had become haggard at his little outburst. Martin clutched his fists into tiny balls and tried to breathe calmly in and out of his nose. This was not how he wanted his last days to be, he wanted them to mean something to him and going about shouting at his only friends was not the best way to do it.

Arthur stood there with a worried expression and wide eyes, neither one of them speaking until they heard a throat being cleared. Their heads shot around until their eyes found the intruder. Douglas sat reclined in his chair as always, arms across his chest with one hand rubbing his bottom lip and his face showing clearly that he was intrigued by the scene that has just unfolded before his eyes. He spoke with a low soothing voice.

"Arthur, why don't you go and see if Dave needs any help?" Arthur took one last look at the ginger man in front of him before nodding and quickly and quietly leaving the two older men alone. As soon as the door closed Martin stood and made his way to the door, intending to wait out the day in G-ERTI until their flight to Italy. Just as he reached the cabin door, a voice beckoned him back. "Martin..." it started, but he was having none of it. The last thing he needed right now was to have a lecture from the self righteous bastard who did nothing but mock and undermine him as Captain. He stopped with his hand on the handle and replied in a cold, determined voice.

"I'm fine." Martin pushed forward, without waiting for a reply and walked out of the cabin into the cold.


	3. Chapter 3

Hours passed with Martin just sitting in the captain’s seat, alone in the flight deck; thoughts protruding the peace Martin had hoped to find. His mind was running a cycle of the previous evening; his brother’s harsh words continuing to bring him down.  
  
 _'You have always been a disappointment to this family!'  
_  
 _'Dad was right about you...'  
_  
 _'We don't want you here, Martin'_  
  
Martins family had always pushed him away, never considering how it might make him feel. He had grown up wanting to please them, but after years of wishing and failing miserably, he finally gave up; ready to give it _all_ up...  
  
He had given his all... But it was never enough for them; he always had to try and be perfect.  
  
"Perfect little Martin." he grumbled under his breath.  
  
"Oh,  Martin! You’re not that little" Martin started and turned in his seat with a jolt, his head snapping to see the silent intruder. Whilst he had been deep in thought, Douglas had entered the flight deck and was now standing there, holding two large cups. Douglas took a step forward and sat in the co-pilot seat, resting the cups on the control panel.  
  
"Douglas! Be careful!" Martin leaped forward and grabbed the drinks before they could cause any serious damage. Douglas smirked and plucked one from the aggravated man. The two men just sat in silence for a few moments, Martin not really knowing what to do with the extra coffee in his hands.  
  
"That one is for you, by the way" Martin glared at the man suspiciously.  
  
"What have you done to it?" Douglas looked affronted and let out a strained sigh.  
  
"There's nothing wrong with it, Martin. I'm not trying to kill you." Martin was still not convinced and took a cautious sniff of the offending liquid.  
  
"Oh for god’s sake Martin, stop being so childish. I saw that you didn't drink the coffee Arthur made for you, so I asked Carolyn if I could go into Fitton and buy us some that had not been made by the inventor of 'Surprising Rice', admittedly, she did say No, but what Carolyn doesn't know won't hurt her." Martin just sat there stunned into silence. _'Great, the one day I finally decide to do it and Douglas starts to be nice'_

* * *

 

The two men sat in silence, biding their time before the flight. Every so often Douglas would turn his gaze to his silent companion, wondering what could be troubling Martin so much that it made his face hard and stony; unreadable.

He really worried about the young captain. He had noticed the slow decline in Martin a few weeks ago during a flight to Denmark. He had been silent for most of the trip, only replying in short one syllable sentences and giving commands for the flight. Douglas had tried to confront Martin, but had received the well practiced line of “I’m fine!” And right now, Douglas had a feeling that their up in coming flight was going to be much the same.

Carolyn charged into the flight deck unfazed at the lack of word games or childish banter between her two pilots.

            “Right my little minions, the client is on board and ready.” Douglas span around in his chair and gave her an incredulous look.

            “Really, Carolyn? So I’m guessing you would like us to actually _fly_ the plane instead of just sitting in it.”

            “Oh, ha ha, funny pilot. Just fly the plane would you, Douglas.” The older man waited for the outburst from Martin, stuttering about how _he was the Captain_ and that Carolyn should be asking him to fly the plane...but nothing came. The fair headed man just sat in his chair steering out the window silently with his Captain’s hat sitting on his lap. ‘ _Okay, now that was REALLY not the Martin Crieff he knew and had come to lo- like.’_ Carolyn gave them both a strange look and left to start accommodating their client.

 Having already done the walk round earlier they started the plane and called Tower to make them known of their departure. Once in the air Douglas sat back in his chair and relaxed...well that’s how it would seem if anyone was to look at him. Really, he was watching the man next to him out of the corner of his eye, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was bothering the younger man. _Maybe I should ask him to dinner tonight and try and get through to him that way?_

* * *

 

Hours passed in stilled silence. GERTI had chosen this one day to behave, so there was no reason for Martin to make conversation. Not that he wanted to talk to Douglas anyways. He had been staring at him for most of the trip and it was starting to unnerve him. _What if Douglas_ really _started to suspect something? It would be better for everybody if he just tried to act normal._ The only thing Martin could think off to break the ice was to start one of their famous word games.

            “Do...you want to play a game?” Douglas peered over at the younger man and quirked an eyebrow.

            “Oh, do we feel like talking now, do we?” Martin sighed and rubbed his forehead before replying.

            “Look Douglas, I’m sorry for ignoring you...its j-just that...well...” The young pilot paused, trying to think of a valid reason for his unusual behaviour,”... I didn’t sleep very well last night-“

            “Say no more, Martin. I know what it’s like for you to forgo your blessed beauty sleep.” Douglas smiled as he cut Martin off mid sentence, saving him the embarrassment that would come from his babbling. “Anyways, what game did you have in mind?”

Martin frowned and went silent. He hadn’t actually put much thought into what game to play, he had just wanted to break the ice and keep Douglas off his tail.

“Umm...w-well, I-I hadn’t really given it much thought. I thought that you could...come up with something?” The two men sat in silence for a few minutes, this time thankfully not an awkward one, while Martin fiddled with his hands.

            “Well you know I try and be the bearer of originality in this company, but for the life of me...I actually can’t think of anything.” The young man looked down and started wringing his hands in trepidation.

“W-well, I have my iPod...we could play some s-sort of music guessing game, I suppose...?”

“Captain, I would like to point out that not only would this game be incredibly unfair, as you _know_ what kind of music you have on it-“

            “Yeah, I know-“

            “But _also_ ,” Douglas pressed, “When exactly did you get an iPod? I mean, I know that Carolyn doesn’t pay you, but I didn’t think there was that much money in being _A Man with a Van_ ” He scoffed and then mumbled, “Maybe I’m in the wrong profession?”

 

Martin retrieved his iPod from his overnight bag and rattled off an explanation for the newly acquired appliance. “One of the students won an iPod in a raffle draw last week and she decided to give her old one to me for free. It still works perfectly fine, so I don’t know why she didn’t just sell it.”

            “No,” replied Douglas, “Nor I. My daughter has one of these. You can normally sell them for a few hundred pounds. I think it would be quite profitable to sell this, Captain.” Martin opened his mouth and closed it repeatedly before speaking.

            “It wouldn’t feel right...I-I mean, it was a gift, right? ...And I’m all that bothered about the money anymore.” _I won’t need it after tomorrow anyhow,_ he thought.

Douglas thought this a bit strange but chose not to comment as it might provoke Martin to retreat into one of his silent moods. So as the flight went on the two pilots played, ‘ _Guess that Song_ ’ to pass the time; Douglas keeping his comments in check while Martin did all he could to act _normal_.

The crew of MJN Air walked through the airport customs and made their way out to the taxi bay that would take them to l'Hôtel du Jour. While the Carolyn was distracted by an over enthusiastic Arthur, Douglas grabbed the ginger haired man by the sleeve and pulled him over to the side to have a quiet chat.

            "Martin, I was just wondering if you had any dinner plans for this evening?"

            "I-I-I," Martin stuttered and blushed, trying to get the sentence out. He didn’t know if it would be wise, as he had caught on to what the older man had been trying to accomplish all day; trying to get Martin to talk. But even with that knowledge, there was nothing Martin would have wanted more than to spend one of his last nights with the man who had come to mean so much to him.

            "Sure," Martin replied and smiled at the beaming man in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys! 
> 
> Sorry Its taken me so long to put up this chapter. I've been quite busy with exams n'...well life, basically.   
> I feel like this is a bit shit actually, but Im certain that the next chapter will be a lot better. This was really just to get the story along. I really appreciate all the comments and Kudos guys, it always makes me write faster. And to be fair, Martin was not a Happy bunny this week and refused to cooperate :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!   
> Please remember that it takes hours to write and only seconds to comment :)


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